Duet
by NezumiPi
Summary: Simmons watches the interaction between Mace and Ward. Each one thinks they're doing the other a favor. [Post S4E16]


Simmons stood in the doorway, watching.

"We're going to get her back, Grant." Mace sounded confident, reassuring, like a real leader.

Ward nodded, not entirely convinced. "But what's the Doctor going to do to her before-" he began to say when suddenly Mace leaned forward and _hugged_ Ward. This was not at all what Simmons had expected to see. It wasn't just a hug, it was a…well, there was the height difference. Ward was taller, but he was sitting down, so when Mace leaned in, Ward's head rested on the Mace's chest. Mace's arms weren't around Ward's shoulder's either – they cradled his head. Then Mace did something completely unexpected: He kissed Ward's forehead.

Simmons forced her mouth to close. What the _hell_ was that? It wasn't romantic, was it? This Ward was in a relationship with Daisy. And he was straight, or at least the other Ward was. And their embrace hadn't really seemed sexual. But it was intimate. Intimate in a way Ward had never been with anyone, at least as far as Simmons had known. Was this Ward different?

Mace and Ward separated. Ward went down to the infirmary to serve as a translator for some Russian-speaking Descendants.

"Mm-mm?" Mace coughed, drawing Simmons back to reality. "You were busy staring?"

"I was- I…um, sorry, sir. I was just lost in thought."

"I understand that you have some kind of problem with Ward, but he is one of the most important allies the Resistance has." Mace said the word 'Resistance' in a way that clearly capitalized it.

"But why were you hugging him?" blurted out Simmons, in the same tone one would use to ask a person why they were cuddling scorpions or spooning with toxic waste.

Mace looked to the side for a moment, considering his answer. "You ever wonder what makes those Hydra goons tic? I don't know. It's not my job to know. But I know Ward. Hydra recruited him when he was a teenager, when he was looking for something. He's estranged from his family." Simmons bit back, ' _don't I know it_ '. "We need him. If he needs a father figure, I'm not going to say no."

Simmons chose to look abashed, even if she wasn't precisely feeling it. "I," she stammered, "I have medical training. It looked like your refugees, they could use-"

"Yes," Mace nodded, "that would be helpful."

* * *

Ward sighed and said something in rapid-fire Russian. The old woman sitting on the cot next to him answered. Ward sighed again and turned to a tech with a clipboard. He said in English, "She says she needs pills. The pills are white, or maybe blue. And they're round, or maybe square. But definitely small. She's clear on that."

"She has jaundice," said Simmons, from the doorway. The old woman's eyes and skin were floridly yellow. "Probably hepatitis. She needs maintenance antivirals."

Ward said something to the woman in Russian, pointing to his own liver.

" _Da_ ," said the woman, nodding vigorously.

"Well," said Ward, "that's a problem. We can barely keep antibiotics in stock, let alone the pricey stuff." He tossed a file folder to the tech. "Do what you can," he said. He turned to Simmons. "That was a good catch. You're a doctor?"

"Biochemist."

Ward pointed to one of the techs. "Sandro's a librarian." He jerked his thumb at another. "Milliner was a paralegal. Biochemist would be a step in the right direction."

"I don't know that I can stay."

"I would say, 'I don't know that you can leave,' us being a secret organization and all, but Skye trusts you."

"Why was Mace hugging you?"

"I'm not cheating on Skye with the Patriot."

"I didn't think that-" Simmons sighed. "The real Ward, the one in my world, isn't so affectionate."

Ward pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes shut. "Before I joined the Resistance, Mace had a son. A Descendant, like him. But the son, he didn't want to fight. He just wasn't that kind of person. He ran. Hydra caught up with him in a motel in El Paso. After the Doctor had his way with the kid, they hung his body from the Triskelion for…for, I don't know how long. Until it was so decayed and picked apart by birds that it didn't hold together anymore. It was broadcast, night after night, on national TV. He has recordings of it. He watches them. So if Jeffrey wants to play-act from time to time, wants to imagine that I'm his son, I'm not going to tell him no."


End file.
